The Weather
by Phoenixgigs
Summary: When a routine mission goes wrong, tragedy strikes. One-shot, contains character death. My first story on here so review please c:


Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Jak of any of the characters in this one-shot.

* * *

They said the weather would be bad that day.

The Underground Headquarters was fairly quiet except for its single occupier. In the center of the main room stood a young man. His face was etched with the marks of the Krimson guard, the harsh blue tattoos. Leaning over a pile of paperwork, carefully studying every detail, Torn picked up his communicator.

"Jak?" Through the crackle of the speakers, a voice replied.

"_Torn?"_

"Reports coming in of Metal head scouts in the Dead lands. You mind…?" The voice laughed with an unmistakable undertone of viciousness.

"_Since when have I ever minded?"_ Torn shook his head, smiling. Setting the communicator back on the desk, he returned to his work. Jak. Trouble as he was, you could count on him.

"Whaat?!"

Jak rolled his eyes, pushing the zoomer onwards, trying to ignore the furious shouts of the orange furred ottsel on his shoulder. "Jak, you know I hate this place. You know I hate Metal heads that want to eat me!" Daxter tugged at his friend's green tinted blond hair. "Jaak, why won't you listen to me!" The zoomer halted suddenly, flinging Daxter onto the ground. Jak hopped off, grinning at the ottsel who had fallen face first into the ground. "Just don't. Just…don't."

"Cheer up Dax, it's a routine mission. We go in, we kill 'em, we go home. Deal?" Daxter peered at him for a moment.

"…Alright but I still don't like it!" He hopped onto Jak's shoulder as the double-lock metal doors slid open and reveal the ruins of their old home. He paused and looked at the sky. It hung grey and dank, the clouds heavily burdened with water.

"Didn't they say the weather was going to be bad today?" Daxter scowled at the blond as they set off into the deadness.

The Dead lands were quiet, unusually so. Jak kept his finger on the trigger of the morph gun, eyes darting to take in their surroundings.

"Jak…I think Torn may have been telling us little porkies. There are no Metal heads." Jak sighed, standing straighter.

"We must have missed them. Let's head back, bud-" Something barreled into Jak's back, sending the two sprawling. Jak reached out for the morph gun but it was slapped away by a thick paw. Jak turned slowly. Beside him stood a thick set creature with a dappled blue pelt. A long whip like tail hung over its head, jaws dripping with saliva. A metal head. It snarled, baring its yellowing fangs. Soon it was joined by the sound of more, many more.

"I knew we shoulda stayed in the City!" whispered Daxter.

In the space of a second, every creature lunged for them.

HQ's doors slid open, a slim young woman stalked down the steps. Torn glanced up and smiled. She bored the marks of the Krimson guard too. Her blood-red hair was braided thickly, accentuating her angular eyes.

"What brings you here, Sweet stuff?" he said, leaning back slightly. Ashelin smirked, hands on hips.

"I'm just here to make sure you aren't making a complete mess of things." She sidled over to the desk in the center of the room, gazing at the maps. "Metal head markers in the Dead lands zone?" Torn waved his hands.

"Don't worry, Jak went to check it out." He paused, as though realizing something. "They've been gone a while now actually…" Torn picked up the communicator. "Jak?" The speaker's crackled and fizzed. "Jak? Daxter?" Ashelin stiffened slightly and snatched the comm from Torn.

"Jak? Answer, repeat, answer!" The speakers stopped crackling. A sharp growl emitted from the equipment. And in the background, were shouts of anger and pain. A thunderous roar spilt the speakers before they went dead. Ashelin dropped it, turning the looked at the tattooed man.

Both left HQ, running faster than before.

The metal doors couldn't have opened any slower. Torn slipped in first, a heavy duty blaster in his hands. Ashelin followed, a lighter rapid fire shooter in her grip. The two crept forwards, further into the wasteland. Torn halted suddenly, signaling silence. A noise. Snarls and roars. Ashelin gritted her teeth and stepped after Torn. Dead ahead she could see the scene unfolding. Jak. He lashed out with his hands, making sluggish punches at the creatures, who dodged and returned a blow of their own. Clutched in the youth's hands was an orange bundle. A metal head cracked it's tail against Jak's head. He fell crying out in agony. It gripped his arm in it's jaws, tugging like a crocadog with a bone. Torn jumped out, reeling off blast after blast into the gathering of monsters. Ashelin's gun rattled violently, metal heads falling dead around them. The one tearing at Jak was blown away, tattered and bloody remains scattering the ground. The two ran to Jak's side, just as he collapsed onto his side. Torn turned him over, holding him up.

"Check…Dax…check him," he croaked, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Ashelin took the furry bundle from Jak's arms, feeling for a pulse, for any sign of life. Nothing. The ottsel was cold, deep jagged wounds had ravaged his small body. His face was not peaceful but twisted in a last grimace of pain. She looked to Jak but couldn't speak. Torn swallowed.

"Let's get you back. You need to rest." Jak struggled against Torn's hold.

"No…Daxter, check him…Is he…okay?" He looked up at Torn weakly, blue eyes barely open. Nothing could hide Torn's expression. Jak shivered slightly, gasping. "My fault…my fault…made him come…he didn't want to…my fault…my fault…" Torn could do nothing but hold him upright as he shuddered out silent cries of anguish. A single drop of rain fell on the still ottsel. Ashelin lowered her head, as the rain fell.

They said the weather would be bad that day.

Weeks passed and Jak healed. At least he did on the outside. Inside was a different matter. The loss of his friend, his best friend, his childhood friend, had just been too much for him. Jak never spoke a word form that day. He would stand for hours at the spot where they buried him, silently gazing on, lost in his memories. No one could reach him, and no one ever would. He didn't last too long afterwards. The night they buried him it rained.

They did say the weather would be bad that day.

* * *

A quick one-shot. This had no planning, I just wrote as it came to me. I would appreciate if people reviewed this. Tell me if you'd like to see more J&D fics from me, perhaps with less character death xD;

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this.

Pho.


End file.
